


old friends and new feelings

by Anonymous



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mentions Of Gender Dysphoria, canon consistent horniness, hair cutting, self indulgent rarepair bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This is weird but also feels right, the culmination of a beautiful friendship turned flirtationship.
Relationships: Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug/Sofia Lee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42
Collections: Anonymous





	old friends and new feelings

**Author's Note:**

> i simply think that sofiepete

“Pete,” Sofie says, ducking into his space. “Stop talking.” She kisses him, and it’s far gentler than Pete would have expected her to be. His brain hiccups quickly, and then he pulls her into his lap. 

The sheets tangle around them from where they were sitting pressed against each. Pete puts his hands firmly on her soft waist and kisses her back. Her lip gloss tastes like plastic but she smells warm and girlish, like salon shampoo and cinnamon perfume. One of Sofie’s hands slides to cup his chin and the other tangles into his hair.

This is weird but also feels right, the culmination of a beautiful friendship turned flirtationship.

* * *

Pete skids into the kitchen to find Sofie struggling to crack the safety ring on the cap to a bottle of Jack Daniels. Her face is blotchy and wet and her whole body is shaking like he’s never seen her do before. 

He crosses firmly to her and takes the bottle from her hands, stowes it quickly on top of the fridge out of easy reach before gathering her into his arms. She lets out a sob that’s half scream and buries her face into his chest. Pete lets her howl and cry in his arms.

* * *

She cuts his hair in the kitchen of her apartment. It’s not the fanciest salon setup (Pete wears a trash bag to catch the snippings), but she has her real hair scissors and a good blow dryer. 

Hair is always an intimate thing to handle. It feels like a thrill to fo it for Pete. Standing so close to him, tilting his head gently to get the right angles, just barely brushing against the sensitive skin of his ears. She runs her nails over his scalp while fluffing his hair up to be sure she did it all evenly, and he always makes a pleased little noise and leans cat-like into the affection.

* * *

Sofie double taps on his arm as she walks past the back of the couch in her apartment. “Med check?” she asks, ducking and planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Ah fuck,” Pete says, dropping the Switch on a cushion and rolling to his feet. He shuffles to the kitchen and pops open the W slot on his weekly pillbox and dumps his antipsychotics into his mouth before sticking his head under the sink tap to wash them down. 

“Good boy,” Sofie says, brushing his damp hair out of his face. It's an almost careless gesture as she steps past him to place her plate in the sink. Pete’s heart stammers to a stop and he can feel the blush rising unbidden to his cheeks. Sofie’s eyes widen and then turn narrowed and predatory as she blocks his avenue of escape and pins him by the hips to the kitchen counter. “ _ Oh? _ ”

“Shut up,” Pete says, and is pleased with how little his voice wavers. 

“ _ Pete _ ,” Sofie tilts her head and moves so her lips are just ghosting against his as she speaks. Pete is unspeakably turned on and embarrassed by this sudden exposure. “Do you wanna be good for me?”

* * *

He brings her flowers. Often. Pete never seems to come by her place without some huge bouquet swept straight from a dream. She dries some of them, hung upside down over the kitchen sink, and presses others between waxed paper and heavy books. 

Every time a bouquet is about to pass its prime he produces another one. Dream flowers in unnatural hues of lavender and blue. Most are scented like their closest real flower approximation, but there are also cotton candy roses, cherry ICEE lilacs, fresh bread foxglove. 

She keeps them in a vase beside her bed, mostly, but will sometimes bring them into the kitchen for some company if she’s cooking dinner alone that night.

* * *

Sofie heaves Pete into her arms bridal-style. She meant it as a sweet tease, to haul him off to bed for some ravishing. He squawks and flails, and in a terrible distant chilled voice says, “Put me down, Sofie.” 

She drops his feet to the floor right away and he stumbles away from her like her touch burned him. “Pete, shit,” she says, holding her hands before her like she’s approaching a wounded animal. He looks cornered and empty behind the eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

His hands are flexing over his chest, nails scraping up and down in frantic lines. Sofie understands almost immediately that this is a gender thing she’s accidentally set upon; Pete only does this when his manhood comes into question. He nods, but his hands are still moving so she keeps her distance. “Don’t like - don’t want you to pick me up.” His voice trembles and comes thick from his throat. 

“Okay. I won’t,” Sofie says. “I’m sorry, Pete.” She keeps her apology nice and neutral, not wanting to be whiny or groveling. Sofie supposes it makes sense, that he might not like to be carried in a manner that evokes  _ bridal _ or  _ princess _ , or that he’d dislike being made to feel smaller or dependent on her in some way.

He nods some more and his fingers start to abate. She offers a hand out to him and Pete takes it and they step back into each other’s space. Sofie knows he won’t want any kind of pity or coddling right now, so she kicks her heels off and steps into his arms, newly short enough to nuzzle into the crook of his neck comfortably. His heartbeat is pounding, but she feels it start to settle as he pulls her in to him.


End file.
